A Page out of My Playbook

Ah, I can breathe again, let my gut hang out, my hair down. Mac Daddy is home. HOME! Running the household, taking care of Bird and Deal, working, and of course, blogging and tweeting, are pretty damn hard as an army of one. Mac Daddy's job beckoned so off he flew to Chicago for six days. Six. Days.

And you know what, it wasn't so bad.

Even I, the glass half empty, angry, whiny, pissy pessimist of a girl, saw the silver lining so bright that it was more than just a bright side. I got to spend time with my boys. We played games galore, we colored, we made Thanksgiving turkey art projects, we kicked the soccer ball, we told jokes, we read books, we snuggled, we tickled, we danced, we ate cookies and popsicles, we played with our food. You see, I'm not usually the "fun one."

Mac Daddy is the jovial ready-to-roll-around-arms-wide-open-kneeling-to-the-ground-in-an-enveloping-hug guy. He's the one who plays the role of banshee, super hero, spy, wrestler, dragon, wide receiver, and point guard. I'm just no good at that stuff. For starters, I don't know what a wide receiver and point guard are; I just heard the terms somewhere. Where was I? Oh, I play differently than Mac Daddy does. Pretty true for most moms and dads, right? Given the choice, the boys would way rather play all rough and tumble than the more cerebral, creative, and gentle ways that I play. Well, with Mac Daddy being gone, it was just the boys and me. Guess what? We had a great time.

Oh, the week was also hard. Tiring. Stressful. Hurried. But we had fun. I'm in no rush for Mac Daddy to take off for a week again any time soon, mind you. But when he does, we'll have a good time.

And just so you know, all THREE boys trashed the house wrestling and romping all weekend. They clearly made up for lost time.